barefooting

they speak of how my feet will bleed, sharp rocks and junkie needles, blackened hardened soles. they sermonize on, the pain of thorns and nails. (i find this ironic.) exuberantly rant, about the comfort and wide selection of shoes.

i rebut. speak of how i didn’t even listen when they warned me of night-found lego-pains; of how i plucked them out, scrunch-faced and teary-eyed, and built things with them. (‘no batteries required’ still assembles a smile.) speak of how i spent an entire month placing weight on the balls of my feet because i thought it was wolf versus bear, and of how i know better now. and of how i used to run barefoot on scorching road, making a game of seeing how fast i could get from shaded doorstep to shaded doorstep. it’s very hard to stand still under those conditions.

and let me tell you, my grandfather is a strong man, i watched him bear feet uphill bloodied, fingernails loose. and after, as a gimmick, he’d pull them back; it was disgusting! but he just laughed.

Leave a Comment

sexy people leave comments.


3 − = 1